ᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᴼᶠ ᴮᴱᴿᴸᴵᴺˑ

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paige’s currently active blogs !! 

jo harvelle  //  spn  :    primary   ,    probably avoiding drafts but here most often.

wolfgang bogdanow  //  sense8   :    secondary

sherlock holmes  //  sherlock  :   tertiary    ,     slowing coming back to life.

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                   ———————–   THE KING OF BERLIN !

                                         ind. priv. selective. wolfgang bogdanow of sense8                                                          written by paige est. 05.2017.

[wolfgawng]

9 days of sense8 | Day 9 : The Cluster - Whatever you decide to do just know you won’t have to do it alone.

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finesuicide.

’ i’m not a BIG fan of crowds. ‘ elbows rest across some wooden tool. damp and sticky hoodie surrounds her bony face. ZOE BARNES is intensively gazing at the posture in front of her. a long-fingered hand lifts itself upwards, pale wrist is till attached to the wooden surface. ‘ i could use your help. and believe me, it’s a win-win situation. ‘ a few, wayward tendrils of her hair escaped from the hoodie’s grip. ‘ still fighting your headaches ? ‘

        ❛    zoe.    ❜     recognition breaches his distraction ,    a gentle sigh and he leans against the desk ,    puts the stethoscope away.     not always a sceptic     ---------     the sun once never feared its power to burn    --------    but he knows better now        not to trust favour’s request ,     someone come in from the rain.      ❛   sounds like something you’d say right before you drag me into trouble.    ❜      

         at the mention of his aches ,    what dull thunder follows him from room to room ,    chin ducks   &&   hand reaches to scratch at the back of his neck.    then eyes meet again ,     unwilling to flinch.       ❛   they’re fine.    ❜

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andmarigold.

“      hi ,      ”      the first and only word that comes to mind ,   struck for a moment with the  JOY  in seeing him.  what melody had been on her tongue is ,  at once ,  forgotten   –   drowned out by the pounding of her heart and the rainfall in berlin.  kala never much cared for the RAIN ,  cold and grey ,  not until it brought her to him   /   it brings only warmth now ,   and all the vibrancy one could hope for.  she turns fully toward him ,   smile unrestrained ,  though the steps taken are hesitant.      “      —   does it bother you  ?      ”

❛    never.    ❜      and how true it is that he’d sacrifice any warm comfort for more of her    -----------    whatever vision or madness or miracle she is.       stone features have found routine in a glare   /    a scowl   /  a frown ,     but they   lift    as if never weighted at the sight of her drawing towards him.      she’s right     -----------     it’s like gravity.     happy to fall he inches closer ,     burdened bramble shattering from his ankles in what once were chains.      ❛   I’ve had it stuck in my head all day.    ❜

[harvalle-deactivated20201124]

shot hiatus while I move countries !!  be back soon loves : - ))

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egansecho.

❝    leaving is   .  .  .    ❞      she drifts off    ,   lost in herself    ,    unsure of how to explain what the danger is and why she still cannot bring herself to yet leave it.     ice cold is the grip of a ghost    ,     unyielding    ,    but the weight of it fills some forgotten void in the caverns of her heart.     even without the trauma   ,     the two empty casket - funerals   ,     london casts a charm over her that is not so easily shaken.

to the untrained eye    ,     she thinks they must look like quite the pair       ———        just two old friends outgrown what worn dungarees they once must have fit into.     outgrown as well the ability to hold a hand without flinch response    ,     or to look in a mirror without fear.     ❝    leaving is complicated.     my father is still here.    you must understand.     before now    ,     when was the last time you left BERLIN ?    ❞

      could he understand ?     yes   ;    he can imagine the anchor-strong grip of home ,  even once plucked from the root it will regrow      again and again     in fresh skin       -----------       he too could not escape.      berlin is his HOME ,    HIS PEOPLE  ,     and though painful aches   &&   dangers linger like illness    he’ll never leave ,    not for long.       he confirms :      ❛    alright.      ❜

    unsure of how else to keep her from drifting away ,    he orders a round of pastries for the table.    as children once able to forget in short bursts what tragedies remained at home ,   they had played warriors for hours   ----    SHE’D LET HIM WIN.    now such display of fragility carves ice through his chest ,   jaw tenses as she falls in and out of touch ,   eyes in some other realm without him.   throat clears as a wake up call.     ❛   and your father ?     ❜

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egansecho.

to her surprise     ,     a soft spot appears like a rotten peach :     a bruise found deep under the skin   ,    not yet purple but BLOOMING.      she shifts    ,    lifts a spoon to her coffee to stir what has already been stirred  twice before    ,    twitches at the cheek into a grin like a grimace.       something WICKED marches through the halls of her mind    ,    but every time she reaches for it       IT SPRINTS AWAY.      ❝    trouble ?    ❞      how innocent her voice can sound dripping with the blood of her family     ,     no clear eye could ever spot the shiver inside her      but he must.

then the sun parts through the clouds    ,     and she returns to him again   ,    shaken but standing.    ❝    I am not one for trouble these days.    nothing terrible happens in iceland.      not like london.    ❞

     it is not london that lays the curse , this he knows  &&   knows not to say.    still something pulls in him to see her flinch.    THIS WOLF IS NEVER HEARTLESS ,   BUT IT CAN PRETEND.    what curse she feels resides here goes unfelt   //   unshared ,  but he tries his best to nod.      ❛  you believe in curses, still.   ❜     but does he not as well  ?   what horror has hung over him since his birth ,  misfortune   &&   abuse ,    could that not have been the work of something bigger?

     NO.    a king cannot stretch himself to believe in a god ,   or the old ghosts that follow them around.   instead he leans onto the cool marble  and lets the first shudder of rainfall brush against him.     ❛   and yet you are here , not leaving.   ❜

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cruciabilis.

❛     SORRY  TO  INTERRUPT  YOUR  GREAT  MOMENT,  sunshine,  but  fact  is  i’ve  heard  something.    ❜     brows  quirking  upwards  as  green  -  tinted  irises  scan  the  darkness                        a  black  veil  of  peaceful  tranquility,  disturbed  by  their  mere  presence.     ❛    but  please,  by  all  means,  continue.   ❜

     a PAUSE   for an ear to lift to the noise  ,   what whispers of approaching danger he cannot yet hear.    head shakes in annoyance     ---      he’s got a job to do !    &&   he can’t leave without breaking the safe.     ❛   I still need time.   ❜    he puts a the eartip back in   ,   fingertips tingling to resume their work.      ❛   watch the door.    you’re getting PARANOID.   ❜

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nwrlds.

                skin crawls with the chill  that lashes with  ruthless  demand,    clock  ticking  as wait nears it’s  unavoidable  end.    the  warrior  stands  still   and   steady,     though  doubts  cloud her judgement for she is  also  the  daughter. 

                ❛   he has.    ❜       there’s  no  question,   never was.    joong - ki  should  be the one  dead ;      not her,   not  their  father.   without other choice,    she’ll do it ;    but  the  question  lingers.     ❛      but have i ?     ———–  have i   ‘ earned ’   the burden of  having  his  blood  on  my  hands ?     ❜

     ❛   NO.   ❜     the answer is clear   &&   immediate   -------   she is undeserving of this great burden.    how mighty the cathedral of death   &&   how strong they must be to stand it  ,   how it never crumbles ,  never lightens.    shadows of his father’s death flicker :   a radio finding the right station   ,   how it felt to kill him   &&   burn the bones.    NO QUESTION ,   THE BASTARD DESERVED IT,      but it was wolfgang as a child who had to carry the weight.    faced with the same ache is she  ,   and nothing he can say will prepare her for atlas’ task.     

       ❛    you haven’t.   but you’ll live with it.    you’ll have to.    ❜

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☼     ✲      ||   :       @namedstorms     ||      liked.

       a plum under the eye ,   wolfgang can feel the bruise formed and throbbing on the other’s chiselled structure.   in the dark sunset of mexico city ,   he is transported to a night of healing ,  warm company of lover and friend.   he settles into their couch by the blue-glow of the television ,   uncomfortable in the face of intimacy ,   but not yet ready to leave.    ❛   how’s the eye ?    ❜

[wolfgawng]

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egansecho.

❝    this from the   KING OF BERLIN.    ❞     dark locks part from ivory skin to reveal gleaming teeth.       a woman in white billows ,     waiting  under tender flesh      ———      humble host unaware of what waits to step into the light.       for now ,      they are safe ,      and like old ghosts they gather under an ebony umbrella in the heart of paddington ,      what corner of london she recognises as home.     AN OLD HOME   ,   long abandoned.      the shadow of a seraph crosses her expression   ,    the only darkness the smear of crimson lip stain     ,    pleased to see him after years apart.    she lifts her cappuccino   ,   bitter caffeine   and warm honey.    

         ❝    TELL ME  ,   WOLFIE.     been up to any good ?    ❞

     a surprise !    he chuckles   ,    how could he have expected anything else of her  ?    what childhood was split between them settled to ash , overturned by the death that follows them both , and yet he can taste it in the coffee , in the air.    egan   --------    somewhere buried near.     BUT ANY GOOD ?   thoughts of mumbai sprout between his lungs ,   a dark braid   &&   golden smile.    any good ?    he is cursed and knows it ,   but sunlight shines on some distant horizon ,    he can feel it on his skin.      ❛   I’m not sure there’s any good for me to do.   ❜

    honesty parts the winds between them ,    he downs the last of his drink   &&   nods for another.    ❛   and you  ?   gotten into any trouble ?   ❜

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@egansecho​ planned a thing.

      oh bitter recognition  ,  what one wolf can see reflected in another  (  even when the other cannot see it in herself  )  is cruel  &&  demands attention.   spine straightens , guard lifts   ------------   every doe eye a bear trap she has set for soft flesh.       ❛  I didn’t think you’d be back in london.  ❜ 

[traumatzd]

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A   SCIENTIST   ,    AN    ACTOR   &&     A   KILLER   ! 

            written by   miri   &   jam   &   paige.

[itsthatunique]

#mood